


A Winter's Contract

by EAVanGeek



Series: The Lady and The Rose [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cyclops Fight, Gen, Skellig Clans, Skellige - Freeform, Witcher Contracts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-07 04:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18612730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAVanGeek/pseuds/EAVanGeek
Summary: Long before the Nilfgaardian Wars, before the Butcher of Blaviken, during the time known as 'The Golden Era' for witchers- there was a Cat named Lady...For five years, the Lady Witcher apprenticed under Igor the Bear, a Skellig witcher. This is one of many stories of their work together, and their time with Clan Tordarroch.





	1. The Feast

The snow outside whirls into a vicious snowstorm. Inside, however, a pig spun on a roast, the clan in for the winter. The fishermen and merchants were talking at their tables, tankers filled with mead and foreign ale. The woman flitted back and forth between them, gossiping and putting plates down to eat, most chewing on their meal as they walked back and forth. The few children ran across the halls, some with toy bows, other shield and wooden sword. It was a mix of girls and boys, the only difference being the length of their skirts and the cap worn on their heads.

 

The jarl laughs, slamming his fist on the table as the druid next to him smiles smugly into his horn. The druid’s apprentice is talking into the ear of jarl’s daughter, who quickly jabs him in the chest, an apologetic smile crossing the young man’s face. The shipyard keeper is seated on the other side of the jarl, digging into the leg of a fowl, grease and froth staining his beard. His wife walks up, smacking his hand as he tries to pull her closer, onto his lap.

 

In the far corner, just to the side of the jarl sits two figures, one who’s hood remains up. The larger of the companion’s fits is an islander- broad chest and an double-handed axe resting on his massive thigh. A giant among the folk in the hall, the hairline that was receding backwards, the giant black bear pelt on his shoulder just as scared and worn as his own skin. His jaw moved an odd way, a small nod backwards every time he swallowed. His tankard was being refilled by one of the servants; when his tankard was full, he grabbed his partner’s tankard, pointing inside.

 

His companion did not make any movement, their plate bare. In the shadow of their much larger companion, it was difficult to see who this stranger was. Underneath the hood, however, there was large hook nose, broken once or twice. And yellow cat eyes, identical to the man next to them. The hooded figure was currently cleaning throwing daggers, pulling one out from the chest plate they wore, cleaning the weapon with meditated precision, before moving onto the next one.

 

“TO IGOR!” the jarl yelled, the hall becoming quiet. “And his young friend! Once the storm ends, these brave witchers will kill that bastard up in the mountains! But tonight, my dear guests, drink! Eat! Be Merry! In more ways than one, if you can- TO THE WITCHERS!”

 

The hall echoed the cheer. The hooded companion put away the dagger to raise their tankard, Igor drunkenly standing up to fast in order to roar out his thanks. Because of his size, the table jostles, the druid and his apprentice scrambling to collect their food before it fell down onto the floor. The other guests were not as quick, and the hounds got to the food. The hooded figure laughed, their empty plate quickly replaced with a full one. Igor sat back down, the bench crying out from the sudden weight. The witcher grabbed his companion’s shoulder for stability before signing.

 

_ We should share a girl. _ Igor signed.

 

“Nonsense.” The hood fell, revealing the other witcher’s face. “They would take one look at me and go running for the hills.”

 

_ Don’t be so hard on yourself, Lady. _ Igor drank from his tankard before continuing.  _ You’re plenty big! Besides, Skellige is different from Vellen- they don’t mind what’s in your breeches, so long as you can use it! _

 

Lady smiled, shaking her head at the older witcher.

 

“I meant, they’d see my cock and realize it’s too much to handle for one person. No, I think… I’ll retire alone. But don’t let me ruin your fun, go find a wench who doesn’t mind a sloppy kiss.”

 

Igor laughed out loud, his head thrown back. Even in full armour, the rope burn around his neck was noticeable- as was the lack of tongue. Lady got up, walking out of his shadow and down to the pig that was being carved. Their armour was not the fur and gambeson with heavy chainmail of their companion. No, it was hardened leather, reinforced with steel and silver. The dark blue of the leather was nearly black in the shadows, but this close to the fire the color of the dye stood out. To combat against the frigid cold, the hood was lined with rabbit fur, the usually fingerless gauntlets replaced with lined vambraces and leather gloves.

 

The cook saw the witcher walk forward, footsteps silent. She was… a kind woman, but Lady knew she was not attractive. Lady had made sure to shave for tonight, her sideburns neat and close to her skin. The cook cut off a slice of bacon, handing a piece to Lady before passing other cuts to the girls who would take them to the other tables.

 

“Lady witcher, I hope the feast is serving you well?” The cook had more of a gut than other islanders, her ginger hair done back in a bun, streaks of grey like lightening in her hair.

 

“It’s been good. The food is nice too.” Lady smiled, chewing on the bacon, leaning on one of the spits.

 

The cook perked up, glancing over her shoulder at Igor. Igor was a little busy with one of the servant girls, who was rather fascinated with the medallion around his neck. The cook looked back- only to have those cat eyes staring straight through her. Lady let her grin turn into a full smile, making a show of licking the grease from her gloved hands. The cook’s eyes grew wide, a small gasp. It might have been the heat from the cooking pit, or it might have been something else, but now the cook was as red as her stew that was starting to bubble over.

 

“Do you have… arrangements for tonight, cook?” Lady asked.

 

“Oh, well, my husband he-” Lady felt something drop in the pit of her stomach.  _ Of course she’s married. _

 

“I see. Well, I’ll just-”

 

“My husband has been a right prick these last few nights. If you don’t mind, I think it be best if we used your quarters for the evening?” The cook used the apron to take the stew off, a large ladle helping her fill in empty bowls.

 

“I think something can be arranged. When can you leave the party?” Lady didn’t look away from the cook, stepping to have the pig in between them both.

 

“Oh-Oh! Um, well.” The cook shooed away the serving girls, to give out the next meal. “It might be a few hours-”

 

“I’ll wait. Take your time. All the time you need.”

 

Lady walked back to the table, the servant on Igor’s lap quietly sneaking away to go back to the work. Igor raised an eyebrow at Lady as she sat back down. Lady refused to look the other witcher in the eye as she continued to talk.

 

“Cook is married. You need to find a different room.”

 

_ What happened to retiring alone tonight? _

 

“I changed my mind.”

 

_ I fucking knew it! Wanna share her? _

 

“Fuck no. You can take the serving girls, I’ll take the cook.”

 

_ You could do so much better. _

 

“Shut up and don’t come into the rooms tonight.”

 

Igor laughed into his mug, shaking his head as he slammed it back. The serving girl from before came over to refill their cups again. Lady didn’t say anything as the girl poured more for Igor than for herself.

 

* * *

 

The snowstorm finally relented on the third day, fishermen and hunters leaving the hall at the crack of dawn. The two witchers left with them, Lady wrapped in a thick traveller’s cloak, twin swords strapped onto the saddle. The draft horse that Igor had been given was just as massive as he was, but Lady still needed her own separate horse.

 

The ride up the mountain was hard, half the time the two were forced to walk their horses through the snow themselves, guiding them up the mountain sides. The sea could be heard everywhere, but it was in peeks through the rocks that Lady could see it- white capped and black, siren songs from the bottom of the cliffs.

 

It took two days to get into the territory of the ogroid. Now the real work began- finding out what kind it was. The tracks they found cancelled out Nekkers- but so did the survivors tales. The claimed it was a beast of a man, a bastard who ate it’s mother and squatted in the mines for the winter.

 

_ I think it’s Giant. _ Igor signed.  _ Evidence is pointing to it at least. _

 

“And if it’s not? What if it’s just a very clever cyclops?” Lady watched the small campfire, tending to the oils and potions that were cooking. She had done most of her poisons before leaving the hall.

 

_ It could be… but I think it’s a Giant. _

 

“You just want bragging rights to say you’ve killed a giant.”

 

_ And you don’t? _

 

“I don’t want to gain the, how do I put this... The reputation of taking down monsters that are  _ easily _ twice my size. Call me lazy, but I’d rather not be crushed for coin.”

 

_ Coward. _

 

“Nope, just a Cat.”

 

Igor waved his hands, as if to say ‘Bah!’ at his companion. The horses had been brought into the small cave they were resting in, chewing on the moss that had survived the first frost. Igor brought out a whetstone, sharpening his silver sword, the runes flickering with magic.

 

The next morning, Lady scouted ahead, finding the entrance to the monster’s cave. A goat was bleating- only for a sickening crunch to echo off the stone, a head spat out and tossed outwards.  _ So it eats meat…  _ Lady squinted, using her cat eyes to look closer. There, a human femur and a broken skull.  _ Human flesh might be on the menu. Need a closer look. _

 

She grabbed her silver sword, quietly moving up the rocks. There was another entrance, one that might be for birds- or small sirens. The witcher pulled her hood up, crawling inside. Thankfully, the mutations meant she was able to adjust her eyes to the dim light instantly. A hulking mass was in a corner, breaking the goat’s body with it’s massive hands.

 

Lady sheathed the silver sword, crawling around the edges, making sure that her prey wouldn’t see her.  _ Cmon, show me your face. _ The monster had a hot coals by its feet, tossing the goat onto it, watching the stringy meat cook and fester. Lady saw that her current ledge ended, the next one a foot away. A simple jump, the soft thump of her feet timed with the next drop of a goat’s leg on hot coals.

 

The cave itself was relatively free of stalagmites, but the ceiling was a different matter. The ogroid was hunched over, but it’s back was able to get scratched by one in particular. A boat mast with some anchors and chains wrapped around it was not that far from the monster’s reach. Said monster snorted, spitting mucus to the side, teeth rotted and black in its mouth. But it was enough for Lady to see it’s face.

 

One eye. Cyclops, one that had a liking of goat and seamen. Lady squatted down, waited in silence and darkness for the next hour. The sun came up, but no sirens entered the cave. The cyclops yawned, having eaten the goat. A next made out of sail canvas and broken hulls, even a few rotted furs. As it’s breathing slowed, Lady crawled down, pulling out a bottle of poison. A bowl full of stagnant water- the smell gave it away.  _ Just enough to slow him down _ . A dull hunting knife was used to stir it together. The witcher looked back at the mast club. Barnacles on the anchors were troubling- but the wood itself had dry rot.

 

By the time Lady returned to camp, Igor was nearly done double checking the bombs he had brought. Lady signed what she had seen in the cave, the larger of the two not letting his disappointment show just yet. They moved closer, into a shelter that was within earshot of the cyclop’s den. Igor oiled their silver swords with the oil Lady had prepared the other night. Lady started to divide the potions.

 

Full moon and two Swallow for them each, Igor would have a Tawny Owl for the middle of the fight when he was at his lowest. Anything more and he might go over his limit for the potions. But Lady was different- a Cat was trained to take more poison and witcher potions that other schools of teaching. So she would drink Thunderbolt first, in order to strengthen her attacks. A Chort decoction in order to counter the inevitable knockback from the cyclop’s attacks. So now it down to a choice of two different potions: Griffin for resistance, or Petri’s Philter for signs.

 

_ Go with Petri’s _ . Igor signed.  _ You have more power with Axii and Quen that I do. _

 

_ That wouldn’t be an issue if you actually practiced the signs. _ Lady signed back.  _ Instead you spend your time making bombs for some reason. _

 

_ Bombs are very useful! And loud. _ Igor smiled, handing Lady her silver sword.  _ Rest, we’ll kill it when it drinks the poison. How long will it take to have effect? _

 

_ It’ll be quick, the poison is gonna tear his throat apart as he swallows. This cyclops will be mad as hell. Watch out for the stalactites when you throw your bombs- hate to lose you. _

 

_ Aw, you care about me? _

 

_ You’re my meal ticket for the winter. I’m not part of the clan for this island- you are. _

 

_ I know. Rest, I’ll wake you up for the second shift. _


	2. The Fight

Dawn was peaking over the sea when Igor woke up to a cyclops crying out in agony. Lady was uncorking both of their Full Moon potions. The larger witcher took his potion from her hand, standing up before downing it in one swallow. By the time he was pulling out his silver sword, Lady had already taken Thunderbolt and was finishing off Petri’s Philter. She drank the Chort decoction as Igor tucked Tawny Owl into his pocket.

 

Their mutations meant they could handle massive amounts of poison- being able to control one’s metabolism at will helped. Igor walked down the rock surface, moving to stand in front of the entrance to the cave. He heard the cyclops thrashing inside. Lady pulled up her hood but he saw that the three witcher potions had already taken effect- skin turned ashen, the larger blood vessels in her neck and face close to the skin were now black. The Cat moved back into the opening she had found yesterday.

 

Igor rolled his neck, popping it in the process. His medallion, shaped like a bear’s head, began to hum, bouncing off of his armour. Two quick breaths and an unholy roar from his core. The cyclops answered back. Igor grabbed dragon’s dream, pulling at the fuse with his teeth, a small Igni was cast as he did so. The bomb was tossed at the entrance, the bomb rolling a foot inside.

 

The entrance was destroyed by a cyclops swinging it’s mast and anchor club. Igor rolled to the side, hiding behind a boulder. Dragon’s Dream went off, a cloud of poison filled the entrance. The cyclops was gagging, it’s throat burning from the gas and the water it had drunk. Igor steadied himself, counting back from three. Then another Igni was cast- the monster cried out in pain as it was wreathed in flames.

 

Igor stood up, walking into view of the cyclops. It’s disfigured head swiveled until it saw the Bear. Igor grinned, raising his silver sword up again, screaming in its face. The cyclops grabbed it’s club, roaring as it swung wide and high. Igor sidestepped, the anchor barely missing him. With its other arm the cyclops took a swipe at him. He brought his silver sword up to his center and just as its palm was closing in, he cut into it. It didn’t stop the monster from hitting him- but he was a large man. Instead of being tossed off his feet, he slid two feet… right in front of it’s legs.

 

A low swipe at it’s shins before moving to the side to avoid the kick to his feet. Lady was inside, he knew that- but he couldn’t see her. So he ran inside, pulling out a Dancing Star. The cyclops threw it’s club inside, shaking the cave as it struck the other side of the wall. The fire from before was gone, burns marked the monster’s upper arms and chest. A flash of dark blue- Lady jumped down from her ledge, two long curved short swords in her hands.

 

The cyclops cried out in pain as the Cat sunk her blades into it’s shoulders. Igor roared out, the sound echoing off the rocks, but the cyclops wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, swatting at the pest on it’s shoulder blades. Lady had gotten the attack correct, placing herself where the monster couldn’t quite reach her. The cyclops turned quickly and Igor could see the poison on the twin blades was starting to take effect, the skin around the wound starting to have a yellow disfiguration. A harsh yank and the Cat lept backwards, landing just as gracefully as her school was named after.

 

The Bear lunged forward, cutting the Cyclop from behind it’s knee. The tendon was severed, the monster howling with pain. Igor threw Dancing Star upwards, straight into a stalactite. On impact the cave shook. The cyclops slammed it’s fist straight down- Igor jumped out of the way at the last second, roaring as he sunk his silver sword into a wrist, pinning him in place.

 

Lady threw three silver daggers. One found a home in the back of the other knee. Another lodged itself into a tricep. The last one missed its target, the falling stalactite falling down into the monster’s back as the dagger flew into the air. She cursed and then concentrated as she cast a Sign.

 

Yrden Trap. From two feet away became a focal point, debris and rocks being dragged closer. Petri’s Philter made the trap stronger. Igor pulled his silver sword out as he felt the sign pull him closer. The cyclops, however, had lost the use of one leg, the other not far behind. Lady squat down, backing away from her trap. Igor struggled against the pull of the Sign, feet sliding underneath him.

 

The cyclops got caught in the eye of the trap, fallen stalactites battering it’s body. Lady drew out her silver sword, nodding at Igor. The Bear gritted his teeth, nodding back. Two Dragon’s Dream were let go, quickly pulled into the fray. The trap was nearing the end, until it dissipated suddenly. The bombs went off, Igor running into the confusion. Lady walked around the edge, waited for the gas to have an effect, but for it not to spread out. The cyclops was stomping at Igor, grabbing the mast and anchor club from the ground. The wood creaked loudly- the dry rot and fire damage had taken its toll.

 

Lady cast a Igni stream, aiming at the Cyclop’s weapon. The gas caught fire, Igor caught in the fray. The Bear was a bloody mess, but he downed his first Swallow. The potion turned his scarred face pink as it worked its way through his system. Lady could feel Petri’s Philter at its end. So she pushed Igni to its limits. An inferno consumed the room, the Cat using both her hands to burn the Cyclop’s weapon.

 

It roared, bringing the weapon down with enough force to shake the cave. The mast snapped, nothing but kindle, the anchors and chain turning red to orange, to hot white. It may be winter outside, but in the cave it was a sweltering heat. Igor’s silver sword was also white hot, cutting through the cyclops broken arm like it was butter. The monster howled in pain, and grabbed the chain with the anchor on it.

 

Lady saw the anchor swing at her, but wasn’t able to dodge in time- it hit her in the chest and leg, the smaller witcher flying across the room. With the grace of her school’s name, she rolled across the ground before jumping back up on her feet. Another dagger was thrown- and found it’s target. The Meteorite silver lodge itself in the one eye. 

 

The cyclops is not known for its intelligence, especially in combat. Powerful, a wide wingspan, most standing at eight feet- this one was a rarity, standing ten feet tall before the fight. But with only one arm left, one that was holding white hot metal, it tried and failed to pull the dagger out of it’s eye socket with the stump of an arm, the anchor being swung around the air, the remaining Stalactites from the roof falling down.

 

Lady felt her ribcage- three broken ribs, but they weren’t dislodged just yet. She drank her Swallow, waiting for it take effect before drinking the second Swallow soon after. Igor’s bear shawl was singed, the fur still smoking from the fire. His second Swallow was dribbling down his chin, but most of it had made it down his throat. The anchor dropped down, the rock underneath cracking. Igor used the metal as leverage, jumping up to swing his silver sword across the cyclops throat. Steam from both weapons, a hiss as silver cauterized the wound immediately. Igor pulled out the Tawny Owl, throwing his head back to drink it in one go. His yellow cat eyes glowed for a half a second, before he dropped the now ruined blade and grabbed his axe from his back. Another vicious roar from the Bear, ready to continue the fight.

 

The cyclops was choking, its airways gone, the missing arm was no longer pouring blood, small drips here and there. The dagger lodged in its one eye had done its job, yellow and black puss flowed down along with blood. The chain with the anchor now cooling and hardening into its remaining arm. It tried to stand up, the knee with torn ligaments dropping immediately. Another cry, aimed at where Igor was before.

 

Lady pushed off the cave wall. Her own silver sword was too heavy, the two Swallows not enough to completely heal her. The twin short swords hidden in her armor are pulled out, the curved silver shining as the sun peeked through the sea opening. Runes were etched into the blades, one pulsed red, the other yellow. Lady cast Quen, the shield bubble protecting her and her fellow witcher.

 

“Get ready.” she rasped, breathing ragged.

 

Igor grunted back, taking a defensive stance with his axe. It was made of steel- but the ogroid oil made it shine. The cyclops lunged forward, one hand reaching out for the two of them. Quen went off, the force breaking two of the cyclop’s fingers. Lady ran forward, jumping on the back of its hand, and sank her twin short swords in between it's knuckles and wrists. Igor roared out loud, the Tawny Owl giving him a resurgence of energy. Just as the cyclops swivelled it’s head at the pain in it’s hand, he swung down on its neck.

 

Igor was drench in ogre blood as he hit it’s jugular. Lady went up in the air with it’s hand as it slammed it back down. Lady stayed on, the grip on her shortswords her only saving grace. Igor roared again, bringing his axe down again. A sickening crunch as the cyclop’s head rolled off it’s body. Lady waited, panting as the monster’s body froze up, and then relaxed at death.

 

Igor was breathing heavily, drool falling down his chin. The lack of tongue meant that he couldn’t easily swallow his saliva. Lady looked over, saw that he was in nearly as bad shape as she was. Then he was smiling, laughing in his crazy Skellig way. Yellow eyes met yellow, and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as well. Igor threw his head back yelled, the Tawny Owl still in his system.

 

Lady closed her eyes, gritting her teeth as she forced her system to consume the rest of the witcher’s potions. Her hands shook as she pulled the short swords out, legs filled with jello as she moved over to pick up the daggers.  _ Worst. Hangover. Ever. _ Lady grunted as she pulled out the dagger that had lodged itself in the now severed arm. Igor was moving to the otherside of the cave, searching the monster’s nest for anything valuable.

 

They took a well deserved rest inside, bringing the horses in for middle of the day. Igor finally came down from his high of the battle and potions, fatigue settling into his bones, nodding off slightly as Lady dressed his burns. The Bear’s silver sword was warped and twisted, the runes ruined and unrecognizable.

 

“Sorry about the sword.”

 

_ It’s fine. But a little warning next time, you almost cooked me with the cyclops. _

 

“Grow a pair, you’re fine.”

 

_ Anyone else would have died, Lady. If you plan on travelling with others you have to keep that in mind. _

 

“Sure, sure. But you’re not just anyone- and besides. I’m a witcher. We rarely travel with others.”

 

Igor grunted in agreement before hissing as Lady popped his shoulder back in place. Lady was already moving over to the ruined corpse, her hunter’s knife at hand. He watched as the Cat knelt down to collect samples- spinal fluid, bone marrow, what little blood that might be left inside. It was a shame the eye had been destroyed in the battle, but Igor doesn’t dwell on it for long.

 

By the time the two have their gear together, each drinking their last Swallow, the sun was setting in the mountains. The cyclop’s head was taken as a trophy, Igor’s mount the only one that could carry it. Snow was starting to fall as they left the mountain path, reaching the edges of the first village. Nightfall greeted them as they came to the hall. Igor was nodded at the guards, who opened the doors. The horses were stabled, gear taken by servants to be taken back to their rooms… and a ruined silver sword personally given to the smith as they passed him in the hall.

 

“Shame really.” Sven the Smith sighed. “It was beautiful craftsmanship.”

 

_ Can you fix it? For free? _ Igor signed. Sven looked down at Lady.

 

“He asked if you can repair it, or do you have to start new?” Lady crossed her arms, her hood still up from the journey back.

 

“Aye, I can try… but it might cost you a few coins.”

 

_ HORSE SHIT! You’re just a greedy cunt. _

 

“Igor the Bear would like to remind you that we are here at the request of the Jarl. If you need supplies, I’m sure something can be negotiated with the Jarl himself. Or, if you wish, I can retrieve the druid who had done the runic work on the blade instead.”

 

“Now hold on,” Sven snapped. “I can fix the sword, there’s no need to get the Jarl involved. But unlike you witchers, I don’t do my work for free.”

 

“Neither do we.” Lady snapped back. “Now, either you fix the sword and your village will be free of monsters for the winter- or you can explain to the jarl why two witchers left in the dead of night, leaving you and all of your clansmen without protection.”

 

Just as Sven tries to speak up, Igor stands taller, glaring down at the Smith. The older witcher was a massive man, standing well over six feet tall. Sven, in comparison, came up the witcher’s chest. An audible swallow was heard in the entrance hall before the smith backed away slowly and went back to his forge. Igor snorted in his direction, grabbing the cyclop’s head as he marched forward. Lady followed closely behind.

 

The Jarl was in his throne room, the druid next to him, his apprentice not that far behind. The Jarl’s son, a small boy of six, was playing swords and shields with some of the other children of the village. Lady watched silently, but found herself critiquing their form in her head. She looked away as soon as she realized what she was doing, a bitter taste left in her mouth. The young boys had stopped as soon as Igor and Lady walked in, the cook watching as the servants were taking the dirty pots and pans from supper. The red headed woman blushed as Lady walked by.

 

“Jarl of the Tordarroch Clan, we bring you proof of the Bastard of Pike Mountain is dead.”

 

Igor dropped the cyclop’s head at the bottom of the steps, watched as the jarl leaned forward in his chair. The druid’s apprentice grew pale at the sight, but the druid himself looked pleased, nodding his head in silence. The Jarl’s son then ran up to Igor’s leg, the boy smiling up at the older witcher. Igor laughed, scooping up the lad, tucking him underneath his arm like he was a bedroll.

 

“Well done, witchers.” The Jarl spoke, a small smile on his face. “I suppose that you have done your share. You may stay here for the rest of winter, and I will inform the smiths to make new weapons for you both. Caldar, you uh, you wanted something from the hunt?”

 

“Yes,” the Druid spoke. “If you have a bottle of the monster’s blood, it would be beneficial for the coming rituals. You’ve already provided wraith ashes and leshen moss, but ogre’s blood is still needed. If I may be so bold, but cyclop’s such as this are part of the ogre family, correct?”

 

“Correct.” Lady pulled out the blood she had collected. “Will this do?”

 

“It will, thank you.” Caldar held out his hand, but Lady did not hand it over so quickly.

 

“Not so fast, Druid.” Lady smiled. “We’ve now killed three monsters for your ritual. Our agreement with the Jarl was that we would not take coin for the winter, but we do not work for free.”

 

“I- of course. The witcher’s code and all that. Fine. Name your price.”

 

“I want you to enchant my daggers- and Igor’s axe.” Lady smiled.

 

Igor smiled wide at the Druid, putting the boy down and pulling his axe off his back, twirling it in his grip. The Druid was livid, but the Jarl spoke first.

 

“It’ll be done. Igor the Bear, of Clan Tordarroch from three generations past. Thank you. And thank you, Lady Witcher. I hope you don’t mind, but dinner has already been served.”

 

“That is fine, we have our own provisions for tonight. Until the morning, Jarl.”

 

_ Sure, provisions. Once you finish fucking the cook, bring me a turkey leg will you? _

 

Lady punched Igor’s arm as the two parted ways, Igor with the cyclop’s head, Lady handing her daggers to the druid’s apprentice. The cook was waiting by the door to the kitchens, her apron covered in pigs blood and grease. Lady gave a short bow of her head, walking towards the cook. She blushed back.

 

“I’ll put on a stew.” the cook murmured.

 

Lady smiled wide, quickly pulling the cook close so she could whisper in her ear.

 

“I was thinking of eating something else. Care to join me?”


End file.
